Adventures of the Virgin Fighter Pilot
by jansonpls
Summary: Castin Donn just wants to work in peace. Wes Janson just wants some alcohol. TOGETHER THEY FIGHT CRIME, or, "how to take the crackiest pairing ever and actually make it happen". Slash.


The lounge was empty for once, just the way Castin liked it. The other Wraiths were fairly easy to tune out; that wasn't the problem. The problem was that when they were here, they always seemed to have this odd need to try and _include_ him.

(He'd told them once that he didn't need to be included -- though possibly the phrasing had been closer to _shut up and leave me alone_ -- and Shalla Nelprin had patted him on the head and told him he'd be a real boy one day.)

But with the lounge quiet and empty -- apart from Squeaky, powered-down in the corner -- he was free to work without any distractions. And his latest project needed as few distractions as possible: Imperial computer security had done nothing but improve in the past three and a half years. And he had to try and break it into pieces smaller than Death Star atoms.

The door opened with a _whoosh_ and some out of tune whistling.

Castin looked up from his datapad and glared at Wes Janson. Sadly, Janson was apparently oblivious to this and continued straight to the bar and behind it. Still whistling.

Forcing his annoyance away, Castin turned back to his datapad. If he tried, he could probably tune out--

"Hey, Donn!"

Castin counted to three, then looked up. "Lieutenant?"

"No kriffin' decor, Donn." Only Janson's head and hands were visible; he was crouched down behind the bar, leaning on it to peer at Castin. "You can slice through all the locks on base, right?"

That had to be a trick question. "No?"

"I won't tell Wedge."

"Maybe."

Janson grinned. "Squeaky's locked down these cabinets and I need more lum."

Castin glanced at the droid in the corner -- still deactivated -- then back at Janson. "And how is that my problem?"

"Being deprived of alcohol makes me cranky."

"Still not seeing my problem here."

"I'm in charge of the duty roster and still will be while cranky."

Castin gave this a moment's thought, then saved his current work and stood up.

"Knew you were a smart kid, Donn."

Castin sighed as he crouched down beside Janson. "I'm twenty-two."

"Like I said. Anyway, see, there's not even a keypad or input jack."

"It's wireless," Castin told him, trying not to sigh again. Was _everyone_ else on this base useless with computers? "I just have to find the right-- there, yeah, it's the same as Squeaky's usual broadcast frequency. All right, just give me a few seconds..."

It was pretty simple, really. He'd made a point of collecting together as many of Squeaky's security protocols as possible when he'd joined the Wraiths. They were different to the average 3PO droid's, but they still followed their own pattern. It only took him thirty seconds to establish the code used this time, but he made Janson wait another minute before actually unlocking the chilled cabinet.

"Astral!" Janson grinned and ruffled Castin's hair before reaching past him to take several bottles. "Thanks, kid."

Castin sighed, counted to three again, and didn't tell Janson he was welcome before heading back to the couch.

He expected Janson to leave after that, and was therefore rather nonplussed when the older pilot sat beside him.

"...don't you have somewhere else to go drink that?"

"Nah," Janson said, and held out a bottle of lum to Castin. "Already used up my credits in Tainer's sabacc game. I'd gamble my soul, but I lost that to Hobbie on Hoth. Actually, I think he then lost it to Tycho..."

Castin ignored all of this, didn't take the bottle, and help up his datapad pointedly. "I've got work to do."

Janson just as pointedly took it. "No, you don't."

"--give that back!" Castin glared at Janson, but he wasn't quite stupid enough to try fighting him for it. "I know it's a difficult concept for you to grasp, but some of us actually care enough to work in our spare time."

"Yeah, and some of us know how to lighten up." Janson grinned and held out the bottle again, having put down the datapad on the couch beside him. "C'mon, Donn, what're you afraid of?"

"Nothing," Castin bit out; but he took the bottle. Then held out his other hand for his datapad.

Janson seemed dubious, but gave it back. "You'd better not do work while I'm here."

Castin considered this as he held his datapad. He _could_ do work, just to spite Janson -- but he'd already lost his train of thought, and wasn't likely to get it back with someone staring at him and poking him and asking him stupid questions. He couldn't just leave and go to his room, either, because Runt would probably be there, and -- well, Runt.

"Whoa, did you short-circuit? Do I have to reset you? I'm not sure how--"

"Shut up." But there was less ire in Castin's voice, and he tucked his datapad in a pocket before twisting the cap off his lum.

"_Now_ you're getting the hang of this no decor thing." Janson had already opened his own bottle of him, and he held it up in what Castin assumed to be a mock salute. "You can even curse. I won't tell your mom."

"Can I tell you to kriff off?"

"Sure, and I can tell you exactly what to do with that bottle if you're not gonna drink from it."

Castin shot Janson a look -- the man's grin was so _annoying_ -- but took a swig of lum and grimaced a little at the taste.

"Huh. Do you never drink, or is your face always like that and I just never noticed before?"

This time, Castin elbowed him in the side before drinking more lum.

"Hey! No need to go beating me up for it."

Castin snorted. "Right, cause I'd get far if I tried to beat _you_ up."

"I dunno." Janson gave him an appraising look over his lum bottle. "I mean, you're a little bigger than me; taller, anyway. Younger. And you've got that mean Coruscant edge. I bet you'd be pretty vicious in a fight."

Castin looked at him sideways after another swig, almost smiling. "You wanna try it?"

"Not likely." Janson shook his head. "I'll just set Shalla Nelprin on you one day. When you least expect it. From around a corner."

"Uh huh. Cause she'd listen to you."

Janson grinned again. It was more lopsided this time. "I can be pretty persuading."

It took Castin a moment to understand, but he made a face once he did. "Please, spare me the details."

"Aw, poor Donn." Janson ruffled his hair again. "I know, it's annoying to hear about sex when you're not getting any. Well, I don't know _personally_, but I've been told."

Castin didn't bother dignifying this with a response, beyond a brief glare and a lot more drinking. Conversations with Wes Janson probably brought out the alcoholic in everyone.

"Pace yourself, kid." Janson sounded amused. (Janson _always_ sounded amused.) "I'm not gonna hold it against you if you don't catch up to me."

Castin made a face and held up his bottle again; about a quarter of his lum was left. "If I do, will it help me follow your logic?"

"Well, it'll help you not care that I'm not makin' sense, anyway."

For a few seconds, he was torn -- this was like teetering on the edge of a building on Coruscant. Did he want to step back, put down his drink and leave to try putting up with Runt for the next eight or so hours? Or did he want to fall into the chaos below?

"Chug, chug, chug--"

Castin jerked his left arm sideways again and Janson laughed as he moved with the hit. But the bottle was tipped back, and Castin didn't put it down until it was empty.

"Nice. Are you drunk yet?"

"Are you less annoying yet?"

"All right, you're still way too tense, but lack of alcohol may not be your only problem here."

Actually, Castin was starting to feel the buzz -- he _really_ wasn't used to drinking, especially not this quickly -- but he took the second bottle that Janson held out to him. And noted, vaguely, that the other pilot was only halfway through his first; at least, the first he'd had _here_.

Janson raised this bottle in a toast; Castin hesitated a second before tapping his own against it.

Belatedly, he said, "I'm not tense."

Janson laughed again. "Yeah, you are."

"I'm not!"

"All right, you're not."

"...why do you think I'm tense?"

Janson grinned at him, but Castin thought it seemed a little softer than before. "I mean, you're hardly Donos, but, y'know, you get _real_ snappy when people interrupt you. And Donn, this is Wraith Squadron. You get interrupted a _lot_. How can you actually manage to be so annoyed every time?"

Castin frowned and took a swig of his lum before answering. "Well, you guys are annoying. You're loud. And always there. And everyone always tries to _talk_ to me."

"...Castin, when's the last time you had a friend?"

Castin gave him a _look_ -- but drank more lum. "I have friends."

"C'mon. A best friend. The kinda person you do absolutely everythin' with, who's always there, and when he's not you wish he was cause you actually miss him bugging you constantly."

This time, Castin shifted in his seat and drank a little _more_ lum.

"Never?"

"When I was eleven."

Janson nodded. For once, he seemed thoughtful. In fact, it looked like he was feeling _sorry_ for Castin, and if he was, he going to be _so_--

"And when's the last time you got laid?"

Castin choked on his lum. "--_what_?"

"I'm not that drunk." Janson grinned lopsidedly. "I said it pretty clearly."

Wiping at the alcohol on his flightsuit -- which meant avoiding Janson's curious look -- Castin muttered, "None of your business."

"Aw, you can tell me, Donn. I won't tell anyone else. Even if it was embarrassingly long ago. I promise."

"_None_ of your _business_," Castin repeated firmly, and tilted the bottle back until there was only half left.

"That long, huh?" Janson sounded sympathetic; Castin shot him another look and saw the amusement on his face, just as expected. "Yeah, you probably haven't gotten any since leaving Coruscant. I'm sorry. No wonder you're so tense."

"Shut _up_," Castin growled. It seemed he was going to get through this bottle even more quickly than the first.

"Hey, it's not _my_ fault. In fact, I could help you out if you wanted."

"--_what_?"

Janson grinned lopsidedly, but his tone was innocent as he said, "I mean, I don't think Shalla's really your type, but I could set y'up with Dia? Oh, no, you're probably not gonna go for that, hmm, there's Tyria, but you don't wanna get on the wrong side of Tainer, _trust_ me, and Lara's kinda got a thing with Donos, I think. So this pretty much leaves us with Face."

Castin choked on his lum again.

"Seriously, kid, you wanna go a little slower with that."

"I hate you," Castin told him as he put his bottle down. There wasn't much left; that was kinda funny, how he'd drank it so fast. "I'm not sleeping with Face."

"Yeah, he'd probably be a bit much for a first timer."

Castin flushed red before he could protest, "I'm _not_--"

"I knew it!" Janson sounded far too gleeful. "I _knew_ it. Wow, Donn, that's pretty sad, y'know? A virgin fighter pilot. You gotta fix that, pretty much _now_."

"Only been a pilot for a few months," Castin muttered; then he sighed, because he'd just confirmed it, hadn't he? How pathetic was _that_?

Janson ruffled his hair again and said, "Few months too long. Cheer up, though. It's not like we're on an asteroid in the middle of nowhere with no single human females around."

Castin picked up his bottle again and finished the last little bit of lum. He didn't bother hitting Janson again.

"I was serious about Face. I mean, get some Halmad in him, I bet he'd go for it."

With a snort, Castin held out his hand. "Try it yourself."

Janson grinned and handed him a third bottle; he'd almost finished his first, now. "Hey, I was gonna, but then I felt dirty cause I saw him as a little kid in his holos."

Castin looked at him sideways as he twisted the cap off his lum. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, we watched a couple in class an' I always got told off for mocking--"

"You know what I meant."

Janson grinned that stupid grin again. "It was a thought, once. Why, you jealous? I think you're a little young for me, I mean, I try to keep 'em legal--"

"I'm _twenty-two_." Then he realised this was the wrong answer and added quickly, "_No_. I mean, it's not-- I don't--"

"You either need to drink more or less, I can't tell."

Castin answered this by taking a large gulp of his lum. And snickering. Okay, he now knew _way_ too much about a superior officer, and while he would normally be pleased about having blackmail material, he had a feeling it really wouldn't matter to Janson. So the information was worthless. And yet somehow hilarious.

"See, all it takes is two and a half bottles of lum, and you've lightened up to the point of insanity."

"I still hate you."

"Crazy lightweight," Janson said with a smile, and ruffled his hair again. "You should--"

"_Stop_ that."

"Huh?"

Janson seemed genuinely puzzled, and this gave Castin a sense of smug satisfaction.

"Messing with my hair. I'm not, y'know, I'm not a little kid. You can't flirt with me and then treat me like a five year old. That's pretty sick."

Janson gave him an appraising look. "So you'd rather I just flirted with you?"

Castin blinked. "That's not--"

"It is. You're the one who brought it up. Cause I could flirt with you properly if you wanted, but you gotta know where that usually leads."

...this was not the direction he wanted this conversation to take. Was it? Castin frowned at his lum bottle, fidgeting with it until the label started to tear. No, definitely not. He might've been a little drunk, but he definitely wasn't drunk enough to flirt. Right? Especially not with Wes Janson.

"Hey, uh, this isn't an exam. I'm not gonna write your parents if you get the wrong answer."

Castin kicked him sideways and leaned back against the couch with his lum. "Shut up."

Janson kicked him back, though not as hard, and smiled again. "Make me."

Castin found himself snickering again and he looked sideways at Janson. "Is that a line? Cause it's not a good one."

"Nope, but you interpreted it as one, which means you're already in the mindset. That makes the rest of this a lot easier."

"...the rest of what?"

"Do you really want me to explain? I mean, it takes away the mystery, and personally I don't always like to know exactly _how_ I'm gonna be seduced cause it's just not as much fun, y'know?"

"Um. Seduced?"

"Castin, shut up."

That was a challenge. Castin knew it was a challenge, despite Janson's light tone. He thought about it for a moment before, slowly, leaning forward and putting his lum bottle down on the table. Then he said, "Make me."

There was that lopsided grin again, and then Janson was leaning forward and murmuring "_Now_ you've got it" and kissing him and Castin was not, _not_ ready for this -- was he?

(Why did he always ask so many _questions_?)

This was different to all the times he'd kissed a girl. (Twice -- once when he was ten, and once at a high school party.) Janson tasted like lum, which was both good and bad, and his teeth tugged on Castin's lower lip, which was mostly good, if a little weird, and he was generally pretty _insistent_ about the kiss, and Castin felt no need to argue (which was _definitely_ weird).

Then Janson pulled back, but he wasn't gone, because his breath was warm against Castin's cheek and there was a distinct lack of space between their bodies.

"If you want me to stop," Janson murmured (making Castin shiver), "you just gotta say. I can go, uh, Shalla's prob'ly--"

"Shut up," Castin muttered, and kissed Janson again before he lost his nerve.

The older pilot snickered a little, pulled away enough to murmur, "You stopped thinking, 's good," and somehow moved even closer to kiss Castin back.

He didn't give Castin another explicit chance to back out, and Castin still wasn't arguing.


End file.
